


Gotta get my angel back

by destielgivesmethefeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Break Up, Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel Angst, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Self-Hatred, destiel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielgivesmethefeels/pseuds/destielgivesmethefeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys!! This is my first attempt in writting anything and English is not my first language so please be gentle with me and tell me if there's anything wrong/needs improving.<br/>Hope you enjoy XOXO</p>
    </blockquote>





	Gotta get my angel back

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! This is my first attempt in writting anything and English is not my first language so please be gentle with me and tell me if there's anything wrong/needs improving.  
> Hope you enjoy XOXO

The clock chimed 5:00 a.m., the sound of the bell bellowed angrily in the dark cramped apartment in downtown London, signaling yet another sleepless night had ended and another dreadfully elongated day was awaiting. It had been a year since Dean broke up with Castiel and decided to move to London. He told everyone that his law firm needed him here but in actuality this was just his desperate, and apparently futile, attempt to rid his mind of the man that he held so dearly in his heart.

 

One year, yet it seemed to drag on endlessly, feeling as though an eternity had elapsed. And not a day had gone by that the regret didn’t eat him up inside, leaving him bereft of any emotion but the piercing sadness. But who could he blame? This was of his own making, he brought this misery on himself. And just like that, the sorrow transformed into the oh-so familiar hatred he harboured exclusively for his pathetic self. He was such a coward. Hell, he probably would always be.

 

Now sitting alone on the worn sofa in a shameful excuse of a living room, staring mindlessly at the coffee table where dust had accumulated into a thin film, his eyes wandered aimlessly around his so-called home. McDonald’s wrappers were scattered everywhere, indicating the astronomical number of burgers and fries that he had consumed. It was a genuine miracle that he hadn’t died of a heart attack yet.

 

Outside, life was awaking, the sun was peaking through the thin veil of lazy clouds, casting light over all living things, but Dean’s apartment, and himself, was still lifeless as always. His head being vacant of any cogent thought, he slowly and reluctantly allowed his mind to drift back to old memories. These were moments that he cherished so much more than any material possession and which he had promised to lock away and never to conjure up again.

 

Dean remembered the day he met Castiel. It was easily the worst day throughout his entire existence up to that point. Work was just simply awful. Apparently, someone in his office messed up the documents of a very important case but no one had the balls to own up to it, so now his head was on the line through no fault of his own. To make matter worse, his dad, John Winchester, had re-entered a rehabilitation institute for the third time. They say third time is a charm but he seriously doubted that it would be the case with his dad. And as a rotten cherry on top of that stale cake, Sammy, his little brother, was having one of his fits again. Apparently, he planned on proposing to this girl Jessica, who he had just been seeing for five months, claiming that she was his ‘one true love.’ Dean, being the protective brother that he is, merely suggested he rethink his decision and consider dating her for a while longer. But somehow that was mistranslated in Sam’s head, causing him to lash out, calling Dean ‘unsupportive’ of his ‘pursuit of happiness.’

 

All of it was driving Dean to the brink of insanity, therefore, he decided to visit the café on the corner of the street and get himself a cup of cinnamon hot cocoa. He knew that it was a bit childish but it always managed to relieve him of any tension. Perhaps, it was because it reminded him of his childhood with his late mom, a simpler and happier time. On leaving the shop, someone recklessly bumped into him, thus spilling the drink all over his suit. “Just my luck”, he thought as the anger bubbled up inside.

 

But when he looked up to give the stranger a piece of his mind, all of his problems melted away. He found himself lost in the most gorgeous pair of eyes he had ever seen. They flaunted a shade of blue that would put the Caribbean sea on the sunniest day to shame, glistering brighter than the stars on the night sky. And right now they were staring right into Dean’s leaf-green ones, wide with shock. Then the most melodious voice, as if of an angel, reached his ears, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry”. It sounded so surreal that he had to dropped his gaze down to the stranger’s mouth to verify that he was indeed talking. And what a foolish idea that was, for once again he was at a loss for word. Those lips were full and plump, bearing a hue of beautiful pink as its owner uttered profuse apologies which were at this point incomprehensible to Dean. Oh Lord did he want to shut him up, preferably with his own lips. Suddenly, he could feel the guy’s hands grazing the outside of his shirt, trying to dry the cocoa with a napkin. But Dean was more interested in the long, elegant fingers rather than the action itself. “ Hmm, how good it would feel to hold them in my calloused hands or to have them wrapped around my… No Dean! Bad Dean!”, he scolded himself.

 

Smiling contently, Dean lavished himself in those much-treasured memories. God, he missed Castiel. No matter what he did, despite how hard he tried to forget him, his silhouette seemed to linger at the back of his mind perpetually. Not to mention, Castiel’s eyes, lips and hands were becoming somewhat an obsession to Dean.

 

He missed the way those orbs looked up at him with so much love and adoration. But then he remembered how he could see that bright blue turned metallically cold as Cas’ eyes welled up with unshed tears. He missed the tenderness of Castiel’s lips on his own, how heavenly sweet they tasted. But then he remembered them trembling so violently as Cas tried with all his might to force a smile. He missed how his heart grew tenfold in size whenever Castiel held his hands as they walked down the street. But then he remembered how they were balled up by his sides, completely motionless.

 

Dean missed the warmth that he felt whenever he was in Castiel’s presence, a warmth that made him feel so blessed, a warmth that reminded him he was loved, a warmth that he had been yearning for ever since the death of his mother, a warmth that he couldn’t seem to find in any of those meaningless hookups. But he threw it all away. All because he was scared. Scared that it was just a fantasy, that Cas would one day leave him for someone else, someone better. So afraid was he that he would get hurt that he hurt Castiel instead. And now all he could feel inside is a bottomless void and a blinding darkness. How pathetic was that.

 

But today there was something different, something that broke the pattern of every other sorrow-filled morning he had had. As Dean wallowed himself further into self-pity infused with self-hatred, something inside him snapped. It sparked up a fire that was put out a long time ago. Something that felt so familiar yet so alien, something that felt like… hope.

 

“No!”, he thought to himself, shooting up from his position, “Not anymore!”. He reached for his phone, hastily dialed the number he had carefully inscribed into his brain. Dean knew that it was probably midnight where Cas was and maybe he was sound asleep, wrapped in the arms of a guy more deserving then him, but right now he couldn’t care less. The long, repetitive rings appeared to be mocking him, testing his patience, and after three of them, he was already getting too restless to wait any longer. Dean hung up, he grabbed his keys and the leather jacket hanging loosely on the armrest, stirring up the dust on the sofa. He stormed out of the stingy apartment, locked the door and flew down the three flights of stairs separating him from the bustling streets of London.  
Stumbling into the crowded influx of people heading to work, Dean didn’t bother to catch a taxi, he ran towards the airport. It would take him about one hour on foot and would possibly exhaust him of all the energy he got from that sandwich and bottle of bear he had last night but such was his determination that he didn’t think twice about it.

 

As he weaseled through hordes of office workers and the like, he caught a glimpse of a few of them. They were all so dull and drab, which made Dean cringe internally. He was like them just a few moments ago. But right at this instance, his eyes were anything but, they were burning a fierce and intense flame. A fire that stemmed from one sole thought in his mind: “Castiel. Have to get him back!”.

 

He knew that he had fucked up big time, that he had ruined it for the both of them. He knew that he had hurt Cas, had let him down like every other godforsaken person that he cared about, but he would make amends to Cas somehow. He would hold Cas so tightly until it became difficult to breathe. He would kiss him so tenderly and passionately until their lungs were screaming for air. He would shower Cas with such affection until he was soaked in sappiness. He would do anything in his power, go to any lengths to make things right again, to love Castiel right.

 

That was it! That was what that truly mattered. He **_loved_** Cas. He loved Cas so much that he found the word “love” itself an understatement, powerless to adequately vocalize what he felt for him.

 

No one, not even Dean, could say with even the slightest thread of certainty that it would work, but he wasn’t going to give up, not this time around, not ever from here on out. This time he was most definitely not going to back down, he was going to endeavor, fight tooth and nail. He was going to confront his demons, face his fears. And by all means, he was getting his angel back.


End file.
